


Rise and Stand

by Syllis



Series: Seek To Mend [6]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Character Death, Child Death, Chronic Illness, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Genocide, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:41:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23505535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syllis/pseuds/Syllis
Summary: Justiciar Cyrelian is well on the road to recovery, but it is rockier and lengthier than he had feared. Now sharing a house with Ahtar and Erdi, he struggles to navigate these relationships-- and the personal tragedy suffered by his former caretakers-- while trying not to think about what his future will be like with the Thalmor, now that he is incapable of magicka.In the midst of this, Marcus appears, to make accusations and demands, as the dragons continue to devastate Skyrim. Once again Cyrelian is forced to contemplate an act of treason, one that he desperately hopes will clear the Thalmor of any wrongdoing.
Relationships: Ahtar/Cyrelian, Cyrelian/Erdi
Series: Seek To Mend [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1293077
Kudos: 3





	Rise and Stand

My eyes stayed on the door, in case of interruption. Not that I expected him to come in, even though I lived for it.

"I just don't know what to do." Even to myself, my voice sounded peevish and miserable.

“It isn’t you. It's him. Steady. I know it hurts." Erdi was combing out the snarled wreck that was my hair, with a borrowed pair of shears beside her. 

She yanked free a huge matted clump as I winced, trying not to squirm. I hoped I was not left with odd ragged holes. Still, anything was better than the mess I'd had.

“Give it time," she counseled. "It’s just the way he is. We had a long talk last week, because Ahtar’s just as unhappy as you are.” 

“You did?” I was not pleased.

“This is sharp. Hold still.” Erdi snipped a bit more away. “I think that’s the worst of it." She began to brush the loose bits of hair off me. "So do you want me to bring it up with him, or not?”

Already I regretted the impulse that had led me to overshare this confidence. Poor Erdi. She couldn't escape me, and here I was, whining at her in a display of the worst sort of brattish entitlement. Well, no doubt a postulant of Dibella's heard worse in her career. Still. I ought to have better control. 

Erdi cleared her throat to prompt my response. Oh. She'd asked a question.

"So long as you feel the need to discuss my circumstances, you could at least relay to him that I’m about to lose my mind.”

It must have been irresistible to check; Erdi glanced down at me immediately. 

“My,” was her only comment. “I could leave you alone for a little bit.”

“I tend to fall asleep in the middle of things.” I stifled a yawn. “In case you hadn’t noticed.” Yesterday, I had spilled half a cup of precious mead. “Be a fine show for the two of you to come back to...” The next yawn stole the rest of my words and three-quarters of my awareness, threatening to pull me down to slumber right here on the stone floor. I ended up with my head resting against her bosom.

“Hm,” Erdi teased. “I could-- not leave you alone for a little bit.” She towed me over towards my bed and steadied me as I clambered up into it. 

“Huh. Haven’t we--” I could not stop yawning. “--already had that discussion? Don’t think I want to go through all that again.” I tried to muster a disapproving look but there was no hope; my face was slackening.

Erdi shook the blanket out over me and kissed my cheek. “It will be alright. I’ll talk to him.” 

I would have disputed this, but I was already asleep.

By now it was the waning scythe of winter, crisp and icy cold.

But it stayed fair and windless enough that the work of rebuilding Winterhold continued apace.

While the center part of our little house was snug, neither Ahtar nor Erdi thought it was a good idea for me to attempt to go far. They hunted down Advisor Ancano to demand that he surrender an explanation to them-- what was wrong with me? Surprisingly, they came back with answers, though these had to be filtered through the lens of their understanding.

“Said you’re like a man’s nearly bled out.” Ahtar stirred his tisane with a finger and took a dubious sip. “Takes time to rebuild the ah-- what is it--” 

“Something called the residual,” added Erdi.

“Residuum,” I said. “Go on.”

“Anyways, he said that it’s to be expected that all you’re gonna do is eat and shit and sleep--”

“--that’s not quite how he put it.” Erdi frowned at him.

“--at least for the next little bit. Maybe a few months. Wanted one of us to stay with you at all times, till you can stay alert for four or five hours at a stretch. Ah. Just in case ya fall into the fire. Or you know, some other shit.”

I looked to Erdi for rescue. “What did the Advisor say about my magicka?” 

Her expression remained somber. “He didn’t. He didn’t mention it at all.”

Ahtar cleared his throat. The two of them shared a look.

“Fine,” Erdi sighed. “Ancano didn’t want to tell me because he didn’t want me to upset you. You’re lucky to be alive. At all.” Her lips thinned and curved downwards. “Be happy with that."

I was silent for a little.

“I know that he does not want you to leave me alone,” I said. “But I would like you to, at least for a little while. Please?”

They had to go aside to talk about it, which stung even further. 

"We're just going down through the cellar to the hot springs. Just for a quick bath." Erdi pulled the ends of my blanket to swaddle me up, as though this restraint would be sufficient to keep me from doing anything foolish.

I stared into the coals of the dying fire for a long, long time.

Days later: 

“Please.” I hated the snivel of my own voice, begging. “Please stay.”

Ahtar looked evasive.

“Can’t.” He was already sidling away. “Wouldn’t be right.”

“I don’t understand! I’m not ill anymore; I’m just not strong. I’m in my right mind." Rather than face him down, I stared into the fire till my eyes burned, to excuse my welling tears. I willed him to understand. "I can even walk better now.” Somewhat.

With support-- Ahtar or a passing cart or the harness of Thaena’s pack pony-- I could get myself all the way down to the jarl’s longhouse. It did take some time, and I needed to be accompanied, and I couldn’t go outside on the coldest of days. But we were coming into springtime; we were already seeing some days of thaw. 

I was not supposed to be exercising. I was supposed to be resting. I had already begun to do what I could to strengthen my limbs. There was no point in waiting for my magicka to return, after all.

Erdi had taken herself to the other side of the room, and was trying not to listen.

“I try." I had fallen to complete desperation. “I try to help!” Because this had been a point of contention. I was the lump in the porridge for certain, as the other two went about their day, struggling desperately to refit the house and to work odd jobs for a few septims here and there, in between dancing on attendance on the jarl and out gleaning or hunting whatever food they could. “Look, I scraped all of that tinder for you yesterday, and carded that wool for Birna.”

At least I could be left alone in the house now, and was capable of keeping the fire going and tending our cooking, but I was still not trusted to go out to the privy by myself. Another point of contention. I was certain I could do it-- and also certain that it was a major source of the problem, because who wants to deal with that? Even with a lidded bucket.

Ahtar would let me touch him. Chastely. 

He would lie next to me all night long, and I could lean against him and listen to him breathe, and even put my arms around him. But he evinced no interest otherwise; and in the beginning when I tried, he would push my hand aside. 

I could kiss him on the face or on the shoulder, but not too much, or too often. And he would let me sit and hold his hand, with my face pressed against his shoulder or his flank or his thigh, to feel the bond that was still there, running like a current between us.

If I asked for anything more, in any manner, Ahtar would get up and leave. At first it was just to go and lie down by the hearth; but these days if I transgressed he would leave the house. 

Sometimes he would be gone for days.

Erdi reported, wearily, that Ahtar was not missing. He was working here and there, doing jobs for the jarl and for Birna; and renovating the bottom half of our dwelling with Ranmir, who did not obliterate himself with mead so long as he was given some interesting task to complete. 

Erdi told me that she did not care for Ranmir. 

Erdi has a low opinion of drunks.

I knew where Ahtar was going, of course. The bright and fair weather prevailed all up and down Skyrim's north coast, and even through the cold there were Stormcloak patrols and ice fisherman and other travelers who came to the inn. And all the new workmen, come at the Jarl's behest to rebuild Winterhold.

Through careful observation of Ahtar, I was fairly certain that he didn’t lack for company.

It was me that he did not want.

“Elder Sister,” muttered Erdi. “Please, just stop.” 

She was helping to pick up the detritus of my earlier project; I had been making whisk-brooms of straw; another project of Birna’s. What I could do for Birna would not sell for much, but the materials cost us nothing. So it was worth doing.

“I’m sorry."

“It’s alright, I’m just sick of talking about it." Erdi slapped at her thighs, impatiently ridding herself of the itchy bits of straw. She grabbed a finished broom and began to sweep.

“You need to trust what he says. He’s not the kind to say one thing and mean another. And it isn’t true that he doesn’t want anything to do with you-- he’s just about crawling out of his own skin.”

Because Ahtar had sat down, early on, and told me-- he would not do it. 

He would not lie with me, not while I remained at the hearth as helpless as a babe; not while I had no choice but to eat what his work brought me; not while I could not, as the whim took me, choose to get up and leave. 

Not while my very survival depended on my maintaining his good will. 

Not while I had no other choice.

“He’s being ridiculous,” agreed Erdi. “I mean, it’s not like it’s any different for me. I need him here too-- if he didn’t cut the firewood I’m sure I’d freeze to death; and I can’t bring in elk or even carry up a salmon without his help.” She set aside her broom and drank the last of her cup of snowberry tea, grimacing. It was cold. “We’d all starve to death, I’m pretty sure. If you didn’t cook.”

Because Erdi had learned all the fine arts of beverage-service and plate-garnishment, but she could not cook anything at all. And Ahtar, well, the less said, the better.

“It isn’t much,” I said, because it wasn’t. “And it’s completely different for you, because you’re not--”

Erdi was staring off into the shadows, pretending not to be observing me. 

“It's been a pretty awful winter.” Her face had gone pensive; sober. Better than her floundering about with excuses and apologies, I suppose, but--

“Please tell me that this hasn’t been going on the whole while." I swallowed, hard.

“Only a couple of times. Since we’ve all been in the house, I mean. And it wasn’t like something we were doing for fun. He was--” She winced. “In a pretty bad way. Still is. I wish you wouldn’t push him.”

“In just a few weeks it’ll be six months." I bit my tongue to stop its whining, but even that was futile. “So what happens now? Because I’m not getting any better.”

“Have you thought at all about what you will do?” Erdi didn't want to argue with me any further.

“Go home and be a burden to my parents?” I suggested, brightly. “Ahtar’s right about one thing; I’m absolutely unfit for any task beyond that which could be accomplished by an intelligent toddler.” 

Not quite true; I could cut up vegetables, provided I did it early in the day when I was still fresh and less likely to drift off to sleep. I could mind a stewpot, provided I kept it well-sealed and off to the side of the coals. The smell of burning food would not wake me. Almost nothing could, when I fell into that drowsy stupor.

“I would rather be here if I could,” I told Erdi. “Almost nothing is still better than nothing.”

Nothing is what it would be, in Alinor. Oh, no talk of putting me down, that was reasonably certain; but I would be another one of those family members whose world is their room, behind a thick layer of heavy curtains. 

Certainly I would be declared unfit; what a shame. 

A swift discharge from the ranks of the service; a small notice that I had retired from society. My younger sisters would step forward and take my place; the litigation that was pending versus Elenwen and Cireen would resolve in my eldest sisters' favor. I could expect to see myself granted the pittance of an invalid’s portion. But that was not the worst of it:

I would never, not ever be free of my trustees.


End file.
